I know that the entry a few days ago, entitled “Hope,” likely sounded, well, hopeful. And, at the time I wrote it, I was in that kind of space. However, I’ve actually found myself on an emotional roller-coaster since the Chronic Myofascial Pain diagnosis. One moment I’m feeling grateful for more information and for finding a doctor who believes he can help; the next I’m feeling anxious and depressed and overwhelmingly fatigued trying to cope with not only my physical stuff, but with trying to absorb a new way of interpreting the signals my body is sending.

I’ve been doing some web-surfing on the topic of chronic pain; I’ve been reading Fibromyalgia & Chronic Myofascial Pain: A Survival Manual; and I am trying to decipher some meaning from this. After all, this is not a trivial kind of development. I’ve received a verdict, even if it’s still somewhat tentative, of a chronic disease.

Ugh!

So, let’s talk about: how do you pronounce the name of this condition? What is it? How did I get it? What do I do now?

In case you’re wondering, the proper pronunciation of myofascia is my-oh-fash΄-a (so that fascia is pronounced similar to “fashion”).

I’ve been learning that this is not exactly an easy condition to explain. And, there seems to be quite a lot of information out there that is not consistent with what the Survival Manual says. For example, both my doctor and several websites call this affliction Myofascial Pain Syndrome – that is, by its former name. When this condition was given “disease status” it became known as Chronic Myofascial Pain about six years ago. It’s a little disconcerting that my doctor is using outdated terminology.

I’m trying to come up with simple language, with information derived from my reading, to try and describe what it is we’re talking about – but even Starlanyl & Copeland (2001) struggle with this task. They say, “one of the problems in discussing myofascia is that there is no familiar metaphor to help…visualize what and where it is.” (p. 17) They then indicate, however, that myofascia can be described “as the thin and almost translucent film that wraps around muscle tissue (think about the sticky white film you see covering some of the chicken parts you buy at the butcher shop).” But, really, it’s much more, given that myofascia can be visualized as a gauze- or web-like network permeating the entire body. Further, they indicate that “malfunctions due to trauma…can bind down the fascia. Restrictions…can create pain of malfunction throughout the body, sometimes with bizarre side effects and seemingly unrelated symptoms.” (p. 19) Myofascial pain is caused by “trigger points,” which are “extremely sore points that can occur in the myofascia in taught, ropy bands… or as painful lumps or nodules.” In essence, “a myofascial trigger point is a hyperirritable area of skeletal muscle.” (p. 23)

OK, OK! I know, enough already. Yes, my eyes glaze over when I try and understand this too…

You might be getting a little bit of the picture, anyway. I have tight, taught muscle tissue that is causing chronic pain (primarily in my left leg and foot, but also in my other extremities to a lesser degree). I’m theorizing that this inflammation of muscle tissue is pressing nerve against bone in my left leg, leading to the tingling and numbness in my left foot, especially the toes.

Here’s the short story of how I believe I got myself into this state…

In the few months following the episode I described in the last post (the winter of 2004-05), the stress at work was monumental. While still in the process of learning my job and becoming acclimated to the campus and a new working environment, I was directed to eliminate three of the programs in my division, requiring me to inform people that their programs and their jobs were going away. Additionally, after months of frustration, I let go the administrative assistant I had inherited. I also dismissed an instructor who was behaving badly and had likely gone off his medications. In sum, I dealt with multiple personnel and student-complaint problems, one after the other, all the while attempting to perform the myriad other responsibilities of an academic dean. And, many days during this time, I nearly froze to death in my office – a space that, on the surface, looked nice, but that had large windows which allowed the brutal east wind from the Columbia Gorge to permeate my working environment. If you will: imagine a tense, stressed-out guy, huddled and shivering in his office all day every day, and you can sort of get the picture: my working conditions were absurdly sub-optimal. One morning in May 2005, days after an intense episode of tortuous verbal abuse directed my way from the big guy, I awoke with incredible tingling and burning sensations in my left foot.

And, now, here I am. I went in to have blood drawn today so that we can rule out other possible explanations for my symptoms. I am gradually taking myself off the anti-anxiety medication I was using as a sleep aid every night (with the warning and the knowledge that my sleep and anxiety issues may worsen for a time). And what I’m doing now is trying to learn as much as I can about this disease before my next doctor appointment, which will happen at the end of September. I’m hoping that I can find enough energy and mental focus to be able to digest a lot of this information and be a fully-informed participant in my treatment plan.

Soundtrack Suggestion

At first I was afraid I was petrified
Kept thinkin’ I could never live without you by my side;
But then I spent so many nights
Thinkin’ how you did me wrong
And I grew strong…

Did I crumble
Did you think I’d lay down and die?
Oh no, not.I. I will survive
Oh as long as I know how to love I know I’ll stay alive;
I’ve got all my life to live,
I’ve got all my love to give and I’ll survive,
I will survive. Hey hey…

(“I Will Survive” – Gloria Gaynor)